


Acceptance

by nothingbutadreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, Bed-Wetting, Classifications, Daddy!Cas, Diapers, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Little!Dean, Little!Sam, Thumb-sucking, Wetting, daddy!Gabriel, pull-ups
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-15 07:18:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutadreamer/pseuds/nothingbutadreamer
Summary: In this AU universe, humans are classified as either a Dominant, Submissive, or Neutral. As hunters, Sam and Dean Winchester have never been classified, that is until they meet Castiel. Follow their journey as they come to terms with their classification and how their lives change for the better.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam was mortified.

“Hey look it’s okay, see?” Dean reassured as he stripped the sodden sheets of the motel bed. “That hunt was shit and the six beers you downed last night knocked you out good. I wouldn’t have woken up either if I was in your state,” joked Dean. It made sense that Sam had pissed the bed, Dean had practically carried him back from the bar. What didn’t make sense to Dean was if Sam was so adamant about being a Dominant then he should have been vehemently opposed to Dean cleaning up the mess and instead taken care of it himself. Dean didn’t mind helping but what he did mind was how Sam hid behind his “Dominant” classification and allowed signs like these to be swept under the rug that he was anything but a Dom.

They would never know though. When both of them turned 18, John refused to let them get tested and by the time he died they were FBI fugitives and couldn’t waltz into a testing center to figure it out. Dean supposed they could get tested on the black market but he doubted the accuracy of the results and how long the secret would be kept. Dean knew Sam and him had a reputation in the supernatural world and if their tests came back as anything as Dominant, which he suspected Sam’s would, they would never be respected or feared in the community and would have to fight twice as hard to do their job.

There was a rumour though of another way to determine your classification, aura’s: a subtle hue that surrounded each human with a colour of their classification. Blue for dominant, red for submissive, and green for neutral. If you were classified as either a dominant or submissive, the shade of either red or blue determined what sub-class of Dominant or Submissive you were. The main ones for a Dominant classification were Standard Dominant, Master, or Daddy. There were classifications such as Top or Heavy Dominant but they were so few and far between that people tended to forget they were classifications. Submissive classifications had a wider range compared to the Dominant classification. There were the normal classifications such as Slave, Brat, Little, Princess, or Pet and similar to Dominant classification, there were rare ones such as Sissy or Bottom. 

It was just a rumour though that aura’s existed and that the whole colour identification process had been made up to reassure those unsure about their classification that there was another way to check. The only creatures who could see aura’s were Angels and is why the rumour remained as such until Castiel came along.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat when they met the Angel. One look at them and Castiel would be able to determine their classification. No such luck. When Dean brought it up to Castiel only after months of ensuring Castiel met his standards of friendship and loyalty, Cas had shaken his head. Yes, he could see aura’s but Sam and Dean’s wasn’t there. When he looked at them, he only them, no hue, nothing. He could see other people’s aura’s though if he concentrated meaning Sam and Dean were cloaked. Cas told them that as children of a hunter, John must have found a way to cloak them so an Angel could never tell and use their classification against them. Castiel suspected an Archangel would be able to see their aura’s but they hadn’t been sighted in eons leaving Dean and Sam once again to speculate their classification.

“Dean I’m so sorry,” apologized Sam trying to ignore the way the wet material clung to his skin. He felt disgusting standing there allowing his brother to clean up his mess. He wanted to argue and tell Dean to stop taking care of his messes, that he could do it but he couldn’t; he didn’t want to deal with the mess alone, he needed somebody else to take care of it and comfort him. Dean did that. He hated that it was Dean who always took care of him. He was there whenever he wet the bed, always ready with an excuse as to why it happened, he helped him whenever the nightmares came, and he stood up for him whenever another hunter looked down on him. Sam didn’t want Dean to be the one taking care of him, he wanted his brother to take care of himself and stop worrying about his bedwetting younger brother. But he needed the care and he hated himself for it. The worst thing though about all of it was he still clung on to the belief he was a Dominant and once their lives went back to only hunting, no Angel crap, he would be able to act like a normal Dom.

“Shower,” Dean commanded pointing towards the bathroom door, “we can go wherever you want for breakfast okay? I bet your hangover could do with some food.”

Sam nodded obediently letting himself walk away from the mess and into the bathroom. He should have stayed but his head hurt and he wanted out of his wet clothes, he hated being wet.

\---

“Cas what the fuck!” Exclaimed Sam as Cas knocked into Sam’s mug, the hot liquid spilling down his front.

“I’m sorry Samuel,” Cas replied confused. “Have I done something wrong?”

“You can’t just appear without warning!” Sam said angrily trying desperately to blot away the coffee on his shirt. He didn’t have any clean clothes left and Dean refused to go to the laundromat unless it was a Wednesday, less crazies was his rationale, meaning Sam was stuck in a stained shirt for the next two days. “You spilled my drink Cas.”

“I apologize; I did not mean to cause you any harm.”

“It’s okay Sam,” Dean said diffusing the situation, “It’s just a bit of coffee, not a big deal right?”

No, it wasn’t a big deal but he had never seen a Dom with a stained shirt. When the waitress came back and saw the mess she was going to assume his classification. He hated being classified and the mess wasn’t even his fault, it was Cas’s.

“What brings you here Cas?” Dean asked taking a bite of sausage before gesturing at Sam’s untouched food signaling him to eat up. “Something wrong on the Angel radio?”

“Yes Dean; there has been talk about trapped Angels in Nevada and I need your help. Warding surrounds the place and no Angel can enter. I was hoping you two could check it out and see if you can rescue the Angels, you tend to have good luck in that department.”

“Of course we’ll help,” replied Dean excited at the prospect of saving Angels. By doing so, there was possibility in gaining a favour from them, and they always needed favours.

Cas began to detail the assignment to them describing the wardings around the house and the potential dangers facing them.

“Sweetie you alright there?”

The intense conversation was halted by the presence of the waitress. She gave the table a bright smile, in her hand a pot of coffee. “It seems like somebody’s made a mess! Shame on your Daddies here for not asking for a bib or sippy cup; then you would’ve been all clean!” She stated in her gentle southern drawl as she leant over and poured Dean another cup of coffee leaving Sam’s empty. “Sorry bub, as a Momma myself I don’t feel comfortable letting you have another cup unless it’s in a sippy or you’ve got a bib on. Just holla at me if you want one or need anything else from me.” With that she turned and walked away.

“Not a word,” was all Sam said. 

\--- 

If Cas hadn’t pinpointed this location, Sam would’ve driven right by it. The shutters hung on by a thread and even far away Sam could spot the layer of dust that covered everything through the open doorway. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Sam whispered.

“It’s the address Cas gave us,” Dean confirmed thrusting the piece of paper in Sam’s direction. He was right to doubt, this place looked like nothing.

“Jacket,” Dean said as they took a step closer towards the house. “I’m not crossing that threshold unless you’re holding on, you understand? If we’re going to be transported into another dimension, we sure as hell aren’t getting split up.”

“Okay Dean,” obliged Sam reaching out and grabbing a handful of the coarse fabric. Sam couldn’t object to this order, for him to hold onto Dean like a child, the logic behind the request was too strong. They had been transported to different dimensions and locations without each other before and neither wanted it to happen again. They could deal with anything as long as they were together.

Feeling Sam’s grip prompted Dean to start walking. Having Sam hold on to him gave him reassurance they wouldn’t be separated if there was a portal through the door but it also put him on edge as he wouldn’t be able to attack without losing contact with him. The reassurance outweighed the attacking advantage though, he couldn’t lose his brother.

The walk towards the house was slow and deliberate, each step another opportunity to scout the vicinity for escape routes and advantages. Soon enough they were at the entry of the house, Dean pausing to make sure he still felt Sam’s grip on his jacket before taking a tentative step across the threshold. Nothing.

“Oh thank god,” sighed Dean with relief.

“There’s nothing here Dean,” Sam said letting go of Dean and bringing up the Angel blade for defense. “It’s just an abandoned house. Cas must’ve been misinformed or jotted down the wrong address. This place is empty.”

“Not so fast Sam,” Dean said beginning to look in the nook and crannies of the house for a button. He checked underneath the seat cushions, between the deteriorating books, and even the blades of the ceiling fan before agreeing with Sam. “You’re right, there’s nothing here.”

Frustrated, Sam crossed his arms. This mission was a bust.

“He probably mixed up the address or something,” defended Dean once he noticed Sam’s stance. “All these rundown places look the same, he’s probably waiting at the Motel right now with no clue he sent us in the wrong direction. I mean Angels can be wrong sometimes.”

Sam whipped around hearing the creak first his body tensing for a fight.

“Who are you?” Dean yelling cocking his gun at the cloaked figure. “Hands up now or I shoot!”

“You can try boy but you won’t have any luck,” cheekily responded the man, his left hand flicking sharply to the left before letting out a squeaky laugh as he watched the boy’s weapons fly out of their hands. They were defenseless and it was time for fun and games.

He allowed his hood to drop and expose his face his figures now poised to snap. “It’s time for some fun boys,” he sang, “It’s always fun to play with humans especially ones who are hunters, ones who think they’re so brave and invincible.”

The gleeful expression dropped from his face as the aura’s of Sam and Dean become visible. “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the man groaned his fingers snapping, transporting a befuddled Sam and Dean back their motel room where Cas sat calmly on the bed.

“This isn’t fair,” complained the figure, “you said I could have fun with them and that they’d be able to take it. You know for a fact they wouldn’t be able too!”

Those words confirmed Cas’s suspicions. He hadn’t been able to see the boy’s aura but he had tricked someone into finding out under the pretenses they could use the Winchester's for their games knowing this particular Archangel didn’t enjoy playing with individuals whose classification wasn’t dominant.

“Woah, woah, woah,” interrupted Dean finally getting his wits about him. “What is going on here? Cas you know this man?”

Cross stood up and placed a hand on shoulder of the unknown man, “This is Gabriel. He is an Archangel.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open, if this man was what Cas claimed he was then he could see their aura’s, he could classify both of them as Dominant.

“That’s a load of crap Cas,” Dean exclaimed angrily. There was no way in hell this short little man with greasy hair was an Archangel. Dean could drop kick him in an instant. Weren’t Archangels meant to be all powerful and at least good looking?

“Excuse me, I personally think I’m good looking,” spoke up Gabriel undoing the brown cloak he was wearing and letting it drop to the ground. “That’s quite rude of you to think. You know you’re lucky you’re both submissive’s or you’d be stuck in a wormhole right now, wishing you could explode. Lucky for you, I have a soft spot for Littles. They’re no fun to trick, they genuinely believe what happens to them and they stop crying. It's sooo not fun.”

“Hold on a minute,” interjected Sam, his hands on his hips as he tended to do when he was confused. “What?” Was all that came out of him, his argument about everything that had just unfolded flying out the window. Who was Gabriel to make such outrageous claims and why had Cas tricked them into a fake Angel hunt instead of talking to them.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “It’s not that hard to understand. As a gift to me, Cas gave me you guys. I was under the pretense you both were full Dominants and I could fuck with you for however long I wanted and is why I agreed to take you boys but it turns out Cas played a little trick on me here. He gave me you so I could classify you and then return you. Drat my soft spot for Submissive’s. Especially such unique one’s as yourselves.”

“A combination of red and blue, leaning closer towards blue? Maybe Red? I can’t even tell and I’m an Archangel!” Laughed Gabriel pointing at Dean when he gave the classification. “You’re gonna be bundles of fun with that classification! A Standard Dominant with Submissive, wait a minute, a Dominant with Little tendencies or a Little with Standard Dominant tendencies, so unique Dean! So exciting!”

“And you little boy,” switched Gabriel pointing at Sam. “You are a Little through and through. In fact, you have the strongest Little aura I have seen in decades. There's not even a hint of the Submissive classification, you're a full-blown Little. You’ll have Daddy’s or Mummy’s fighting to be your caregiver with how strong your pull is. Ugh, just talking about it makes me excited and here I thought Castiel had tricked me and left with me nothing but you didn’t did ya buddy?” Gabriel said turning to face Castiel. 

“The most powerful Little I’ve seen in decades and a mix of classifications, this is almost as exciting as a wormhole! You boys are lucky I like tricks otherwise Cassie here would be stuck in that wormhole right now. It’s still an option if you want, No? Oh boo.”

“I’m sorry it had to happen this way,” spoke up Cas cutting off Gabriel’s rant. He noticed the boys beginning to spiral and had to speak up before Gabriel could continue. He wanted to look into their minds and gauge what they were feeling but it felt wrong, he wanted to help them without his Angel’s powers guiding him. “I knew how desperate you two were to find out your classification and I felt this was the only way possible. I care for you boys deeply and only wanted to help.” 

“How cute,” cooed Gabriel, “I’d love to hear the rest of this but I’ve got to get going. This was tons of fun boys; well not as fun as a wormhole would’ve been but not as bad as Sunday football. So many feelings right now, it’s going to be such a nice mess. I’ll see you around Castiel, don’t go trying to trick me again or I will drop you in that wormhole and Sam,” Gabriel said turning to him, “I wouldn’t oppose being a Daddy to the strongest Little in the world,” and with a wink he was gone.

Dean needed to sit down. He was a Submissive, a Little to be precise but he was also a Standard Dominant. Never had he heard of somebody being mixed classifications, it one or the either or neither. He couldn’t be both. He couldn’t.

Tears began to roll down Sam’s face a tightness forming in his chest. It wasn’t true. Gabriel was playing a trick on his. He, Samuel Winchester, was not a Submissive and he didn’t radiate Little. He was a Dominant.

“Well, it looks like we have a lot to talk about boys.”


	2. Chapter 2

The conversation didn’t last long. Before Cas could utter another word, Dean had forcefully pushed him out of the room threatening him in a tone that would haunt his nightmares that if he caught a glimpse of him anytime soon, he’d shove the Angel blade where the sun didn't shine.

Neither Sam or Dean spoke once Cas was gone both trying to process what Gabriel had said.

Sam was the first to speak up. “It’s all lies, right?” He questioned, his teary eyes meeting Dean’s, desperately looking for an answer. It was a lie, one massive trick to mess with their heads and throw them off their game. Neither of them had ever shown Submissive tendencies in Sam’s opinion and for that mischievous Archangel to to drop the bomb that not only were both of them Submissive’s but the most fragile sub-classification of all, Little, it had to be lies.

To top it off, Gabriel had stated he had the strongest Little aura he had seen in a very long time. It sounded like some made up bullshit to Sam and was why he was able to convince himself it wasn't true, he wasn’t a Submissive and Dean definitely wasn’t. A trick was being played and Sam needed Dean to confirm it. 

Dean’s mind was whirring wishing he could slow down time and understand all the thoughts and feelings running through his brain. Part of what Gabriel said was true, he knew that. He had always suspected Sam was a Submissive but hearing the words come out of Gabriel’s that not only was Sam a Submissive but a pure Little, it all made too much sense. He always knew Sammy was too cute for his own good. 

What worried Dean was if he accepted Gabriel’s classification for Sam, he couldn’t shove his under the rug. What was the point in lying about his classification and not Sam’s? If only Gabriel had classified Sam as a Neutral, then Dean could have brushed their classifications off but he couldn’t. He couldn’t dismiss the truth of Sam’s classification and if he couldn’t dismiss his, then he couldn’t dismiss his own. Fuck.

Dean shakily sat down wishing he could give his brother assurance that it all was lies but he couldn’t summon the strength, instead slumping into himself. He needed time to think. An hour passed between the two brothers, both avoiding each other’s gaze as they thought. Sam’s question lingered in the air, awaiting a response.

“I don’t know Sammy,” Dean finally whispered breaking the silence. “I want to dismiss the classifications and chalk it up to another shitty day of our lives but I can’t.”

Dean took a deep breath having thought long and hard about what he was going to say next. It would be tough but necessary. Deep down he knew their classifications were true and it scared him. He wished he could lie but once you were classified you couldn’t hide from it, it became part of who you were, allowed you to be your true self. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t believe his classification until it was backed with evidence and the only way to do that would be for Dean to point out Sam’s Little nature. Dean was hoping he was making the right decision in that moment, to push Sammy to accept his classification, maybe that way they could move forward and figure out the next step. There would be no next step until Sam wrapped his head around the classification and Dean felt obliged to help. He was the big brother, he needed to help.

“You can’t pretend that deep down you don’t know you’re a Little. Think about the way Dominants act around you or some of your tendencies that you keep on blaming on hunting when we both know they’re traits ingrained in your nature. You wet the bed Sam. I’d check that off as a Little trait. I’ve seen you chew on pens for hours. An oral fixation, I’d classify that as another Little trait. You always look to me before making a decision. Little trait. Literally this morning our waitress assumed you were a Little because you had a stain on your shirt! How can we deny Gabriel’s classification that you’re a Little? You’re a Little through and through, not a Submissive with Little tendencies, a full blown Little who is required by law to fall under the Submissive classification when it really should be one of its own. He called you the strongest one in decades and we both know it’s true. I’ve seen you manipulate Dominants to do your bidding with your puppy dog eyes and words, no coercion necessary. They fall over you! I can’t look past these signs and I know you can’t either. They all point to the fact that your classification is true which means – which means mine is most likely true as well.”

Sam’s breaths shortened as Dean spoke, the words stinging him like hot water. He wouldn’t believe it. People listened to him because he was a Dominant not because – “You’re wrong Dean,” argued Sam. “H-he’s playing a trick on us, trying to drop our guards so the Angels can take us or something! Dean this is ridiculous; these classifications are lies. Do you really think you actually have a mixed classification? That doesn’t exist Dean! You’re either a Submissive or a Dominant, not both!”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration trying to think of a way to see if Gabriel was telling the truth. They couldn’t get tested the normal way, the black market was out, Cas was out because of the stupid warding - The warding! If they could get rid of it then Cas would be able to see their aura’s. They would need to find a witch to cast away the warding which would be tough, they hadn’t seen a witch since the Angels had fallen to earth. It would beat sitting in the motel room contemplating the finality of their classification. Gabriel could be lying about their classifications, well at least his own.

“The warding,” Dean said sitting up straight. “Sam, if we can get the warding taken off then Cas would be able to see what colour our aura’s are and classify us. I’d trust his classification over this Gabriel fella any day. I mean, look at what Cas did to help us figure out our classification. One hundred percent the worst way possible but he tried. He wants us to know our classification. All we have to do is find a witch, make her take off the spell, and then get Cas to classify us. From there, we’ll figure it out.” 

“Where are we going to find a powerful enough witch to take off the warding?” Pointed out Sam, “we haven’t heard of this happening to anyone else, what witch would even know about the spell?”

“A witch in Dad’s journal,” exclaimed Dean jumping up and retrieving it from his bag. “There’s no way Dad didn’t write down the witch who did the spell. All we have to do is find the, and bam! The warding’s gone.”

Sam pursed his lips at Dean’s plan, it was pretty farfetched but he couldn’t think of another option. He needed this warding off so Cas could give him his true classification, a Dominant classification. “Fine. It’s better than sitting here thinking these are our true classifications. Where’s this witch at?”

\---

“Dean it’s been three weeks; I doubt we’re going to be able to find her,” Sam said as they slid into a corner booth. “None of our location tactics have worked and nobody has ever even heard of her! Let’s just forget about it and those classifications and go back to our normal day job. Please.”

Dean wished he could. Since the classification, things had shifted. Once you knew your true classification, people sensed it and dependent on if you were a Dominant or a Little, people would subconsciously talk to you based on that classification. He knew Sam didn’t notice the shift, people had always talked to him using their Submissive voice but for Dean, it was all messed up. He was getting both voices. Some talked to him like he was a Dominant others talked to him like he was a Submissive and Dean couldn’t pinpoint why one would use one voice over the other. It was all very confusing and he wished Castiel was there to make sense of it. His calm demeanor would have logically talked to Dean about it and helped him process what was going on, but Cas wasn’t there. Dean hadn’t seen Cas since he had shoved him out of the motel room. He wanted the Angel.

“Good evening boys,” exclaimed the waiter as he approached the table. “My name is Chad and I’ll be your server tonight. How are you boys doing?”

“Fine,” Sam said curtly indicating further conversation wasn’t going to happen. He was drained and he knew Dean was too, they didn’t have time to put up a façade.

Chad’s eyes tightened when he heard the tone of voice that was being used on him. He didn’t like Submissive’s, especially ones that radiated Little energy, being rude to him. He was a Dominant and he required respect. Chad placed two menu’s down on the table and put on another smile. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to take your order.”

“What a creep,” muttered Sam at the retreating figure. “Did you see the way his hands clenched when I talked to him. I said one-word Dean, one, and he looked as if he was going to rip my head off.”

Dean shrugged and picked up a menu, if Sam couldn’t figure it out on his own, he was going to let him stay ignorant. He was surprised Sam had never picked up the way certain Dominants acted, as if being talked firmly too was the bane of their existence, especially by those they thought were Submissive. Those Dominant’s were dicks and a quick web search would have taught Sam everything he needed to know about dealing with them but because he was still denying his classification, there was no need for him to research anything to understand it better.

“What are you going to have?” Dean asked after skimming the menu.

“Chicken salad,” Sam replied shutting his menu. “BLT burger for you?”

“Oh Sammy you just know me so well,” crooned Dean.

“Sounds like everything is going great here!” Chas said now back at their table. “I hope everybody has had enough time to look over the menu, and if so, I’m ready to take your order!”

“I’ll have the BLT burger,” ordered Dean.

“And I’ll have the chicken salad, cashews on the side please.”

“Would you like that to be served Little style?”

Sam almost choked on his spit at the question, never having heard it before. He didn’t know that was an option and why was the waiter asking if he wanted it done. “What?”

“You heard me,” Chad said dropping his service voice for a moment. “Don’t act like you’re not a Little, nobody likes a poser. Now would you like your meal served Little style or not?”

“I’m not Little,” protested Sam turning red, “and no, I would not like my meal Little style.”

Chad scoffed turning to face Dean instead. “It seems like your little boy is being a bit fussy tonight. It’s a naughty thing to do when they lie and is why Daddy’s have the final say, would you like his meal to be Little style?”

“Wait a minute,” interjected Sam now getting angry at the waiter. Dean was not his Daddy and had no say over him. He made his own decisions.

Chad held up his hand silencing Sam. “Waiter’s don’t listen to Little’s that lie. Sir? Little style or not?”

Dean looked between Chad and Sam confused, “Um no, not Little style.”

Chad flipped his pad shut and nodded breaking out into a smile again. “Sounds great! Your food shall be out soon. Would you like something to drink?”

“Beer please,” Dean said quickly.

“Coming right up!” Chad informed him before turning away to put their order in.

As soon as their waiter left, Sam ripped into Dean. “What the fuck? You can’t do shit like that Dean. You can’t pretend to be my Daddy nor go along with the waiter like I actually am a Little. If you ever do something like that again, you’ll be seeing stars for weeks. Got it?”

“Fighting words coming from a Little,” grinned Dean dodging the punch Sam threw at him. It was wrong for him to have stepped into the role of Sam’s Dominant. It felt wrong to be in that role. He would always be Sam’s defender but he didn’t think he could ever be his Dominant, that itself was such a personal role in Sam’s life, it wasn’t Dean’s to take. He was his big brother and protector, not Dominant. Dean didn’t even know if he could ever be someone’s Dominant, he hated this mixed classification.

“Here you go boys! I know you said no Little style for your food but you never specified your drinking preference so I had to make a judgment call. You look like a spiller,” claimed Chad as he placed the drinks on the table. “Food should be out shortly!”

“What is happening?” Groaned Sam looking at the drink before him. Dean had snatched up the bottle of beer before Sam could take it himself leaving him faced with a blue sippy cup.

“Just undo the cap Sam,” shrugged Dean taking a sip. “Mmmm refreshing.” Even though the waiter was being a giant douche his judgement call was right. Sam spilt drinks all the time, the sippy cup may have been a good idea. He wouldn’t tell that to Sam though.

Sam grabbed the sippy cup and twisted the lid only to find it stuck. He twisted it again and nothing. The cap didn’t budge an inch. “Come on,” grumbled Sam trying to get the cap to undo. Having no luck, he held it out for Dean. “You try?”

Dean’s eyebrows raised slightly at Sam’s regressed speech. What had just happened there? Grabbing the cup, he tried to untwist it but couldn’t, it must have been safety locked. “Sorry Sammy, looks like you’re stuck drinking out of that. Nobody will notice though if that helps. Or just don’t drink.”

“Can’t I have a sip of yours?” Begged Sam wanting to throw the cup across the room. Why was the waiter being so mean to him? He just wanted to drink a beer.

“Absolutely not,” Dean replied holding his beer out of Sam’s reach.

Sam huffed and looked at the sippy cup. He was so thirsty. Maybe just a quick suck would quench his thirst and he could pretend he didn’t even use it.

‘Just drink out of it Sam, you’re not the first person these people have seen drink out of a sippy cup. You don’t care what they think so man up.”

The thing was, Sam did care what these people thought. If he was going to continue claiming he was a Dominant, which he was, he couldn’t go around drinking out of sippy cups. Word would spread and he’d never be taken seriously again. He was thirsty though. With renewed determination, Sam picked up the sippy cup and took a big swig of his beer. He didn’t care what these people thought.

What Sam couldn’t see was the devious grin on Chad’s face as he watched him down his drink. Naughty Little’s needed to be taught a lesson.


	3. Chapter 3

“I didn’t meant too Dean. I swear to god; it-it really was an accident!” Sam claimed, avoiding any contact with the mess he had just made. “It just happened and I didn’t mean it and I’m so sorry Dean.”

“Stop talking,” Dean commanded, his voice low and angry. He knew he had no right to be upset, as a Little whose age range wasn’t currently known, this was bound to happen at some point. It was in his car though and he was angry; Sam had ruined his stuff and it wasn’t fair!

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean tried to control his anger. Even though he was only a Standard Dominant, it was still ingrained in him to be able to deal with situations like this but another side of him wanted to burst into tears and scream about how his stuff was ruined. He didn’t know what to do.

Dean subconsciously sent out a silent prayer, if anybody could fix this it would be Cas. _Cas I need you._

“You called?”

Dean almost cried with relief at the sound of Cas’s voice. The Angel’s comforting presence all he needed, Cas could direct him in the right direction.

Cas assessed the situation, looking between the two boys, a smile hiding behind his pursed lips. Of course, after three weeks of silence he should have known they’d only call him during a crisis; both were still upset with how he had gone about figuring out their classification and clearly still hadn’t taken them seriously. It was a good thing they had called, Cas was ready to help. He wanted to help them accept their classifications and allow them to partake in all aspects of them; Cas could feel the denial eating away at the boys only helping to increase their confusion and pain. It literally hurt Castiel’s soul that they continued to deny themselves the right to be happy, he needed to help.

“Samuel,” Cas said stepping gently towards the younger Winchester wanting to soothe him.

“Don’t touch me!” Screamed Sam, jerking his body away from Cas. He didn’t deserve to be comforted. Dean was mad at him and he had all right to be. He had just pissed himself in the Impala. Sam knew that he had permanently stained the leather seats and couldn’t fathom Dean ever forgiving him for doing something so stupid. He hadn’t felt it, he was always able to feel when he needed to go and to suddenly feel his pants becoming warm and wet had sent him spiraling.

Cas ignored Sam’s pleas and took another step forward, placing a firm hand on Sam’s chest, grounding him. “Listen to me Samuel. It was an accident. Accidents are okay. Take a deep breath with me. Good. Again. There we go Sam,” soothed Castiel removing his hand from Sam’s chest feeling that Sam was now more grounded. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Cas obviously knew what happened. The discoloration on Sam’s jeans and the stench of urine permeating his nostrils were telltale signs of what had just occurred but he wanted Sam to say it. Admitting what happened out loud would help him process the situation and potentially help him come to terms with his Little classification; Littles were the only classification who struggled with holding their bladder.

“You know what happened,” whispered Sam. “Really Dean, I-I don’t know how and-,” Sam was cut off again by Cas putting his hand back on Sam’s chest.

“Samuel,” Cas said sternly, “say it out loud please. It will help.”

“No Cas!” Sam argued his chest tightening under Cas’s hand. He didn’t like the way Cas was treating him, it made him feel like a naughty little boy. He wasn’t going to admit he had just lost control of his bladder, Dominant’s didn’t have accident. It was caused by something else, a bug or something.

“Now,” ordered Cas, his voice morphing into one of authority. It felt strange intentionally using his Dominant voice on Sam. Sam rarely needed support in acting Little, all his actions were naturally like that, except this one. Little’s typically cried but accepted their accidents. Cas understood that in this moment, Sam needed guidance. Cas would provide that guidance for him and hopefully something would trigger Sam into accepting his classification, helping jump-start a part of his happiness he had denied for so long.

“Samuel I will not ask one more time,” Cas said again pointing to the Impala. “What did you do?”

It was as if something was controlling him as he said, “I pissed myself,” to Cas. He wanted it to be over and for Dean to forgive him. He knew Dean wouldn’t forgive him without Cas’s assistance and Sam knew Cas wouldn’t help Dean forgive him without Sam admitting what he did. Cas sucked.

“Did you know it was happening?” Cas pressed.

“No Cas! Okay? One moment I was listening to one of Dean’s dumb road trip mixtapes, yeah we’ve upgraded to mixtapes now, they still suck as much as normal album’s do, and next moment we were pulling over and Dean was yelling. I looked down and I was soaked in a pool of my own piss!” Sam screamed, starting to cry. Why was he crying? It was a dumb one-off thing and he wanted it to go away. Cas could’ve made it go away and instead he was forcing Sam to talk about it.

Cas nodded noticing for the first time Dean’s stance, having been so fixated on Sam’s wet jeans, he hadn’t taken a moment to analyze Dean. Dean’s shoulders were hunched over and his hands were balled tightly in fists, as if ready to fight. Cas knew Dean was holding himself back from punching Sam. It was this classification business holding him back; neither knew where they really fell in the Little spectrum and Dean wasn’t going to fight Sam if lack of bladder control was one of his tendencies, he couldn’t control it and Dean would feel horrible afterwards for hurting Sammy for something he couldn’t help. But if this was Sam having an accident because he wasn’t paying attention, then Dean was going to throw hands.

Cas shook his head sadly at the sight, he needed the boys to give in, then none of this turmoil would happen. It was sights like this that reminded Cas why he wanted, needed, to help the boys. They had helped him through his toughest moments, it was his turn to give back. He would get them to accept their classifications, even if it was the last thing he did.

Cas snapped his fingers, thankful for his returned grace. In an instant, Sam’s jeans were dry and the Impala was clean, no liquid oozing into the seats. “All fixed,” Cas stated.

“Does it look okay Dean?” He asked wanting to address Dean first. Once he saw his car was clean, he would forgive Sam instantly. He couldn’t be angry about something that wasn’t there.

Dean popped his head into the Impala and took a long look at the seats, running his hand over the worn leather. “All good,” he told him.

“Perfect,” Cas said before turning to face Sam. He would talk to Dean later about how he was feeling in that moment, the conflict going on in his mind. “Feel better?” He asked addressing Sam.

Sam gave a slight nod, his face still red with embarrassment. An Angel had just zapped him clean. He didn’t feel clean despite the outward appearance, he had just had an accident, that moment would remain with him forever, dirtying him.

“Good. Now boys, it really is time to talk.”

\---

The three of them sat across from each other at a rounded table in a busy diner, neither of the Winchester’s meeting Cas’s eye line.

Dean had only agreed to meet with Cas because he had cleaned his Baby. Without him, the car would’ve smelt like piss for months, that was a tough scent to remove from leather.

Sam was mindlessly flipping through the menu, still ruminating on his accident. He didn’t comprehend how it happened and he was terrified, he had just peed himself without knowing.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Dean asked after the waitress left with their orders. “If this is another bullshit play about our classifications, Sam and I are leaving.”

“I would like to apologize for that. It was wrong of me to trick you into getting classified without your consent and I’m sorry. At the time, I thought it was the only viable play; I was finally in touch with a reasonable Archangel and I couldn’t risk passing on the opportunity. I knew how desperate you boys were in figuring out your classification and I thought I could help. I’m sorry,” Cas explained, telling only the partial truth. He was sorry that he had tricked Sam and Dean into getting classified but he wasn’t sorry it had happened.

Dean crossed his arms angrily, he hated that Cas had tricked him. What he hated even more were the classifications; they scared Dean, he didn’t know how to go about them. At least Sam had it easy being one true classification, Dean had two. How could he even begin to explain to Cas how fucked up that was. No one ever had two classifications, one or another or for the lucky few, neither.

“You should be,” Sam spoke up taking a sip of his coffee. “Why didn’t you just tell us what you were doing?”

“I didn’t tell you two because Gabriel would’ve sensed a trick and fled the scene and the opportunity to be classified would have been lost.”

“Those classifications don’t matter,” Sam said shifting in his seat. “Gabriel tricked all of us. Dean isn’t a mixed classification because those don't exist and I’m not a Little classification. Being a full blown sub-classification is just as improbable as being a mix. Neither of them can be true and your plan was pointless.”

Cas pursed his lips. He hated how strongly Sam denied his classification despite having just had an accident. At least Cas could sense Dean was considering his classification despite how confusing it was. Dean radiated something different than he had before the classification but Sam, Sam was still in denial. Cas didn’t understand, accepting would bring them peace. Those that never accepted their classification were never whole.

“Do you not care about your classification then?” Cas asked, thanking the waitress once she set their food down. Nothing for Cas, because he didn’t eat. A caprese chicken sandwich with salad for Sam and wings with coleslaw, a surprising choice, for Dean.

“Of course we do!” Protested Dean as he began to eat. “That’s why we’re looking for the witch who warded our aura’s. Once we find her, she can take off the warding and you’ll be able to see our classifications. Then we’ll know for sure our classifications, you wouldn’t lie to us.”

“Lie to us again,” corrected Sam, finishing his second cup of coffee. He wasn’t going to let Cas forget that he had lied to them about Gabriel. Sam hated being lied too, even if deep down he knew it was for his own good.

“A witch?” Cas questioned, ignoring Sam’s comment.

“Yeah,” Dean said pulling out the journal and sliding it over to Cas. “Look at the sticky noted page, it has all the information on the witch who did the spell except for where she is, Sam and I are looking for her.”

“Interesting,” Cas mused as he read the page. All the boys were going on was that the witch had red hair and had done the spell in exchange for demon blood. That was not much to go on, even for the Winchester’s.

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her with only this information?”

“Of course!” Defended Sam. He didn’t want to be on Cas’s side of the argument despite thinking it earlier. If Cas thought they couldn’t do it, Sam was going to prove him wrong.

“We’ve got a lead on another witch; she’s holed up somewhere in Pennsylvania and once we find one witch, we’re connected to them all and-,” Sam’s sentence cut short, a look of mortification clouding his face.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” Dean asked concerned.

Cas figured it out quickly once he heard a small hissing sound coming from underneath the table. “Sam,” Cas said quietly.

“How’s the food boys?” The waitress inquired arriving back at the table to check on them. Just as quick as Cas, she figured out what was going on. The smile on her face only faltered for a moment, it wasn’t the first time they had had an accident in the restaurant, it had just never been at one of her table’s.

“Okay, I see somebody’s made a little bit of a mess. No worries though!” She said keeping her voice low and calm. All the staff had been trained on how to deal with an accident and the first thing they learned was to not draw attention to the situation. Second step was to ask the customer if they would like to go to the restroom so they could clean up. Third step would be to clean up the mess.

Dean looked at the waitress in confusion before understanding registering on his voice when he heard the dripping. Sam had just had an accident – in a restaurant. Dean looked at Cas, the last time Sam had one, Dean hadn’t handled it well. He didn’t want to be in charge of this, not if Cas was here.

Sam tightly squeezed his eyes shut wishing he was dead. Two accidents in one day, his body was betraying him.

Cas smiled at the waitress, unsure of how to proceed.

“Why don’t you two,” she gestured at Cas sensing his Dominant classification and Sam, “go get cleaned up. I’ll get somebody to bring you a change of clothes. And you,” she said pointing at Dean, “put the food in to-go container’s and pay the check? You can be out of here in no time, unless you would like to stay?”

Cas glanced at Sam’s mortified face and shook his head, “No. We would not like to stay. We shall go get cleaned up, thank you.” Cas grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him from the table, trying his best to shield him from the other customers who had thankfully not caught on about the event unfolding in front of them.

Once inside the family bathroom, Sam began to cry. He was beginning to hate this crying thing. “C-Cas, please,” he begged gesturing towards his pants. “Make it go away.”

“Sam, I just can’t zap your clothes clean. The waitress said somebody would bring you a spare change. If you go out now with the same clothes on but dry, people might notice and begin to question. I’m sorry.”

“No please,” Sam said again not understanding why Cas would care if anybody noticed. “Please Cas.”

“I said no Sam,” Cas replied apologetically. He wished he could zap Sam’s clothes clean but he never knew who was watching. He didn’t want somebody on their tail.

A gentle knock was heard throughout the bathroom. “Hi. It’s Mike from the restaurant, I have a bag of supplies. If you could open the door please.”

Sam faced away from the door, not wanting to make eye contact with another person, it would acknowledge the accident and he just wanted it to disappear.

Cas opened the door and took the supplies. “Thank you.”

Shutting the door he turned to face Sam holding out the bag. “Would you like me to wait outside while you change?”

“No!” The objection slipped out of Sam’s mouth before he could think. A Dominant would want to do this by himself, without the support of another person but Sam didn’t care in that moment. Even if it was Cas, somebody he wasn’t particularly close too, he was tired and angry from having two accidents in one day and just wanted to be comforted.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Sam whispered as he took the bag of supplies from Cas’s outstretched hand, looking inside and blushing at what he saw. In the bag was a spare change of pants which by one look, Sam knew were going to be too short; there was also a bag of wet wipes, powder, and the worst thing of all, a pull-up.

“No Samuel, there is nothing wrong with you,” reassured Castiel. “Some people who are classified as Little have trouble holding their bladder. It’s natural and may just be one of your tendencies.”

“I’m not Little,” meekly protested Sam. “Cas please, just check my body. I swear to you it’s not my classification, because my classification is not Little, something’s wrong.”

“Sam, you can’t keep denying it forever,” Cas said taking hold of Sam’s outstretched hand and beginning to do a scan of his body before letting out a laugh and dropping his hand. Of course, in this instance, Sam was right; his classification wasn’t the thing messing up his bladder. For that to happen, Sam actually had to accept his classification as a Little. Being a Little meant being comfortable in giving up control and letting somebody else take care of you, many did that by not having control of their bladder. Cas had speculated the accidents were caused by Sam’s subconscious accepting the classification because as a Little, Sam definitely would be one who couldn’t hold his bladder but it wasn’t that. Sam wasn’t accepting on his subconscious level his classification, no, the accidents were caused by the drugs in his system.

“What?” Sam asked worriedly. “Don’t just laugh when you’re checking me over! What’s wrong with me? Am I dying?”

“You’ve been drugged,” Cas stated frankly. “There are drugs in your system that are affecting your control of your bladder. These accidents aren’t currently caused by your classification but instead by some strong diuretics.”

“Oh thank god,” sighed Sam with relief ignoring the subtle fact that Cas had suggested he would be having more accidents in the future because of his “classification” but he wouldn't, he wasn't a little, and the drugs in his systems proved it.

“The waiter,” Sam exclaimed after a moment. “Cas, there was this awful waiter that served us earlier today and he was so rude and we were tired and – he gave me a drink and he must’ve been the one to put something in there, to punish me or something. He didn’t like how I talked to him and thought I was a Little so he was the one who probably drugged me and what an asshole!”

“Clearly, who would do something like that?”

“Assholes,” Sam repeated, his change in attitude evident. He was feeling much more upbeat about the fact he hadn’t pissed himself without reason, it was the waiter’s fault.

“Can you take them out?” Sam asked holding his hand out again.

Cas shook his head, “I’m sorry Sam, they’re in your blood stream. I can’t pinpoint the drug, it’s too thinly spread and I would be afraid of doing you harm if I tried to extract them. They’ll just have to run their natural course.” Cas took Sam’s hand again and did a quick scan. “They should be out in the next 24 – 48 hours; it seems he gave you quite a bit of them.”

“Fuck,” Sam said glancing at the bag in his hand. If he couldn’t feel when he was going to go, maybe he should wear the garment contained in the bag. But if Dean or anybody found out he was wearing one, he would never again be taken seriously. Dominant’s didn’t wear pull-ups but Dominant’s also didn’t get drugged by stupid waiters and lose control of their bladder. Sam was in a sticky situation and he didn’t know what to do. Sam subconsciously glanced at Cas wishing he would make the decision for him.

“You should wear it,” suggested Cas sensing Sam’s inner turmoil. He had seen the pull-up in the bag when he had handed it to Sam. If he was going to have no control over his bladder for the next day or two, then he needed protection. It would prevent further embarrassment and maybe would trigger Sam into accepting his classification. That he would figure out how nice it was to wear pull-ups and have somebody else be in control of that aspect of his life.

“I will protect you,” Cas told him. “Nobody will care if you wear one and if anybody has the audacity to say something because they’re so ignorant about the matter, I’ll blast them into outer space for you. Please wear it, you’ll feel safer.”

“Dean won’t be mad?” Sam questioned playing with the hem of the pull-up in the bag.

“No Sam, Dean will not be mad. I think he would be more upset if you peed in the car again, but if you’re wearing that, then you won’t.”

Sam looked nervously at the pull-up and then at Cas. “You promise you’ll blow them into outer-space?” Sam asked quietly, the question coming out small and fragile.

“I promise Sam, I’ll always protect you.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You guys ready?” Dean asked, knocking on the door. He had finished putting the food into the Styrofoam containers and had paid the bill, leaving a hefty tip for the waitress. He was ready to bounce.

Dean heard a muffled yes come from the other side of the door and stood back pondering over what had just happened. Dean wished Sam would accept his classification as he knew it would make things easier for him but he understood the confusion in saying yes. Once you said yes, your life changed; Sam wasn’t ready for that. Dean wasn’t ready either; he didn’t know if accepting it would mean they would be split up, their classifications tearing them apart.

Dean couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t be apart from Sam and was a strong reason why he hadn’t accepted his classification yet. He needed confirmation that these classifications were true and that regardless of them, they wouldn’t be separated. He couldn’t do it, not as a Dominant or a Submissive.

Sam shifted awkwardly in the bathroom having haphazardly cleaned his lower half which was now covered with a foreign object. The worst thing about it all was that it was surprisingly comfortable, it encased his groin and brought him a sense of safety from future accidents but also the feeling that if he wanted somebody, somebody like Cas, could clean up the accident if he had one and it would all be forgiven. Sam made so many mistakes, the thought of being accepted for having them was a crazy thought. Sam didn’t like the second thought, the idea that somebody taking care of him in that aspect would bring him comfort. That felt like the sign of a Little, something he wasn’t.

Looking down at his bottoms, Sam was relieved to see that the pants, although several inches too short, successfully hid the pull-up. He was ready to go.

“Are you ready Sam?” Cas asked holding the plastic bag of Sam’s clothes; they would get them cleaned later that day. Sam officially had no clean clothes left and Cas would convince Dean to stop at a laundromat.

Sam gave a nervous nod as Cas unlocked the door. Avoiding Dean’s gaze, Sam began to walk to the car, an involuntary moan slipping from between his lips. The movement had pushed the material tighter against his groin and each step was a reminder to Sam that he was currently protected, it was almost too much to take in.

“All good?” Dean asked looking between the two of them; he had been surprised Sam had let Cas accompany him to the bathroom instead of Dean, had let Cas witness all of the mess that Dean was already accustomed too.

“All is currently okay,” Cas reassured as they slid into the Impala, the engine roaring as Dean pulled away. “Sam would you like to explain what happened?”

From the rearview mirror, Dean saw Sam’s head move side to side.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Dean requested from Cas, “seems like Sammy here doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“There are diuretics coursing through Sam’s body right now,’ began Cas.

“What?” Dean exclaimed. That was not what he was expecting to hear.

“At Sam’s insistence, I did a scan of his body to check if anything was wrong and found that there is a strong dose of diuretics running through his body. Sam suspects it was the waiter from earlier today,” Cas explained, “Dean, where are we headed?”

“That fucking waiter,” grumbled Dean. “He was on edge the whole time we were there, it wasn’t hard to tell he didn’t like having a Little talk to him that way, those types of Dom’s are fuckwads.”

“I’m a Dom,” piped up Sam from the back for once feeling very far from it, the pull-up between his legs currently bringing up feelings he had suppressed for years; feelings that revolved around self-loathing and demon blood. He had kept them at bay for so long under the assumption Dominants couldn’t have thoughts like that but with the pull-up wrapped around him, he was beginning to feel those things again – things he couldn’t control.

“Sam,” Cas said warningly. He was frustrated with the denial and wanted to move forward, to have both boys partake in their classifications, especially Sam. After the accidents, he could feel the boy slipping and if he didn’t accept the classification soon, Sam wouldn’t be okay.

Sam wanted to scream at Cas, he had no right to say his name like that but he was tired of fighting and couldn’t bring himself to come up with a witty retort and instead wrapped his arms tightly around his legs.

“Yes Dean,” agreed Cas. He had done hours of research how humans took to their classifications and had been disgusted with stories of how individuals would take their classification too seriously and the stories about Dominants who believed they were superior to Submissive’s because of their classification were the worst to read, they made Cas’s blood boil. Classifications were a natural part of society and using your classification to put yourself above others wasn’t okay – overall, Cas thought humans sucked sometimes. “The waiter was not a very nice man, what he did to Sam was not okay.”

Dean gripped the wheel even tighter, he wanted to turn the car around and catch the waiter outside, he needed a punch in the face.

“Where are we going?” Cas asked again.

“Ohio,” Dean told him. “Sam spotted a case in the newspaper yesterday, he guesses it might be vampires.”

“Exciting,” Cas deadpanned, “but I think we should stop at a laundromat before you embark on this case.”

“It’s not Wednesday,” Dean replied. “Laundromats are for Wednesday’s only, less weirdo’s – Cas we’ve had this discussion before.”

“I think you might have to stray from your laundromats only on Wednesday rule Dean. How long have you gone without clean clothes, a good shower, decent sleep?”

Dean shrugged not able to remember the last time; since they had started looking for the witch not much else had been on their minds, especially clean clothes. Dean dropped his right hand from the wheel to feel the fabric of his flannel only now noticing the dirt that had piled up on it. A clean change of clothes wasn’t a bad idea but it wasn’t Wednesday and Dean didn’t wash clothes unless it was Wednesday, it gave him a sense of routine.

“No,” Dean said after a moment. “We can wait another two days, it’s not a big deal.”

Cas looked at Sam waiting to see if he would speak up about what he wanted. The pull-up was clearly doing a number on him, his mute presence a sign of that. Some Submissive’s didn’t voice their needs instead allowing their Dominant’s to do so; Cas wondered if Sam would be one of those Littles, allowing their Dominant to take care of them in that aspect and unlike the bladder control issues which Cas strongly suspected he would have once he accepted his classification, he was uncertain of what Sam needed here. Now was a perfect time to observe and see what Sam would do in such a fragile state, it would be a helpful indication on how he would act once he indulged in his classification.

“I’ve got no clean clothes left,” Sam whispered from the back. He was embarrassed. He had none left because of his stupid accidents and now he was asking Dean to change routine so the issue could be fixed. Sam hated being a burden.

Dean let that comment hang in the air, of course Sam had no clean clothes left. “Okay,” agreed Dean eventually, “but we’re not stopping at one until Ohio.”

“Fine.”

The rest of the ride was comfortable silence: Dean concentrating on the road, Cas looking at the passing scenery, and Sam fast asleep in the back.

Sam woke up to a gentle shake on his shoulder. “Wha-?” He said letting out a yawn as he woke up to a black sky, he must’ve slept through the afternoon.

“We’re at the laundromat,” Dean informed him. “Grab your bag so we can start the wash and then we can do research across the street while we wait. C’mon.”

“Coming,” groaned Sam. Stepping out of the car Sam allowed himself a long stretch realizing halfway through that something was very wrong; there was something cold and squishy between his thighs.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose forcing himself not to cry. He hadn’t thought this through at all. He didn’t have any spares and he sure as hell wasn’t going to the store to buy any more. He couldn’t stay in the wet pull-up already feeling an itchy sensation down south, he was once again out of luck. Sam took a deep breath and began to listing his options methodically as he gingerly walked towards the laundromat, legs slightly wider than normal to prevent further pain.

Once inside the laundromat, Sam dropped his bag next to Dean’s and made a beeline for the bathroom needing time alone to assess the situation. Once inside, Sam took another deep breath and began to calculate coming up with a solution quickly. He would go commando, wouldn’t drink, and wouldn’t sleep. He would remain vigilant in paying attention to his bladder, if he could control where the flow was going then he could handle not wearing a pull-up and having no accidents for the next 48 hours.

Taking the pull-up off left Sam with an unexpected feeling of emptiness. Now that the pull-up was gone, he felt unprotected and vulnerable. Sam hated being vulnerable and briefly wished he had another pull-up to slip on before shaking his head with a firm reminder that Dom’s did not wear pull-ups and that he needed to get himself together and act like a Dom.

“Dean, how are you doing?” Cas questioned back in the laundromat. He hadn’t had a chance to be alone with Dean since reuniting and now was a good time as any to talk about how he was feeling.

“Fine,” Dean said curtly as he stuffed their clothes into the industrial washing machine. It wouldn’t keep their clothes as soft as Dean liked but it would remove the scratchy and stinky feeling and that was good enough.

“Dean,” Cas repeated using the same tone he had used on Sam earlier, “how are you feeling?”

“Don’t do that shit with me,” Dean said angered. He wasn’t going to be coerced into talking about anything, even if Cas gave great advice.

“I’m only asking how you are feeling Dean,” Cas replied. “You banished me from you two for almost a month and I was called back because you needed me. I’m here to help Dean but I can’t unless you tell me how you feel.”

Dean was silent.

“Dean please,” Cas begged. He needed Dean to forgive him and open up about his inner turmoil without Cas looking into his mind. That felt like an invasion of privacy and Cas wanted to help without using his grace to obtain information. Thankfully he didn’t need his grace to know Dean had accepted his classification, anybody who knew Dean could feel the shift in Dean’s personality, feeling his classification tendencies beginning to show. After Gabriel’s guess about which way Dean would fall, Cas could tell it was Standard Dominant with Little tendencies, he knew the man better than Gabriel and felt the shift.

“The classifications must not have been easy to accept and I know you know they’re true. You’re a one-of-a-kind mixed classification, you get the best of both worlds.”

“I don’t want a mixed classification,” Dean blurted against his better judgment. “Do you know how frustrating the past weeks have been? Being talked to one minute like I’m a Dom and the next Submissive. It’s fucking with my mind Cas and I can’t figure out which one suits me better and I’m once again stuck not knowing where I fall on the classification scale. Nobody’s ever been a mix before, why couldn’t I just have been a Dom? I’ve taken care of Sammy my whole life, being in charge suits me and the suggestion that I need somebody to take of me is mind boggling. I don’t want to be taken care of Cas, I want to take care of others. This mixed business doesn’t make sense!” Dean’s voice broke halfway through the last sentence; the pain he was feeling evident in his words.

“You’ve never been taken care of before Dean, how can you know it’s something you don’t want? You’ve been thrown into a life where you’ve been forced to constantly be in charge, what you decide goes. It isn’t Sam’s fault that it’s ingrained in him to listen to you; you’re his family and the closest thing he’s had to a caretaker so you’ve never had the opportunity to experience having the roles reversed, for somebody else to take charge. You don’t know if you want it or not Dean, if you need it or not because you’ve never had it. Maybe you’re a mixed classification because you crave both: you crave to be taken care of and to take care of. I don’t see what’s wrong with that – what I think is wrong though is that you’re pushing this classification under the rug. I know you’ve subconsciously accepted it Dean, your tendencies are beginning to show. You need to lift that rug up Dean and embrace your classification, it forms you into who you need to be,” Cas told him.

Dean crossed his arms uncertainly, he didn’t want to lift up the rug. Having a certain classification meant you tended to gravitate towards someone with the opposite classification, to complete oneself. Dean wouldn’t be able to do that; he could never be with a Submissive or Dominant because he was both. Nobody would want to be with him because of that and if Sam accepted his classification and found a Dom, Dean would be alone. If he accepted, he would end up alone – he didn’t want to be alone.

“Look Cas, that’s all fine and dandy that I might want these things or I might what but it doesn’t matter. Accepting my classification would make everything worse. I won’t be able to find someone to fulfill that role in my life and maybe if is curious enough to try it, they’ll only ever partially fill the role I need and what happens when Sam finds someone because he will, everybody will be dying to be his Dom and he’ll leave. He won’t want to see me again because he’ll have a perfect life. He left me for Stanford, I don’t doubt he’d leave me for a Dom.”

“I didn’t leave you for Stanford,” Sam whispered from the back, betrayal written across his face. He didn’t leave Dean for Stanford, the offer to come with him had been on the table for all four years. It was Dean’s decision to leave, not his.

Dean stoic stance broke his eyes flickering to Sam, he hadn’t wanted Sam to hear this, it was personal. He was trying to process all of this with Cas and worrying about what Sam needed was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

“Sam,” Cas said gently. “Why don’t you head over to the café and Dean and I will meet you there in a few minutes. We’ll talk there okay?”

Sam opened his mouth to argue wanting to reassure Dean that his decision to go to Stanford wasn’t one of desertion but one look at Cas’s fiery eyes had him quickly shuffling out of there, afraid of what Cas would do to him if he stayed.

“Now I’ve fucked it up again,” Dean exclaimed looking at Sam’s retreating back. Sam would never forgive him for his comment but that was what he had felt when Sam had left, he had felt abandonment and that’s what he was going to feel if he accepted his classification. “Let’s just go to the café.”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “We are not leaving this laundromat until you understand what you want and what will happen if you ask for what you want. Dean, you want both. You deserve both – to be taken care of and to take care of. Sam is attached to your hip Dean, you accepting your classification will not drive him away and if you do end up being in a partnership with a Dominant or a Submissive or both, Sam would not leave. You and him and the partners you choose if you decide to choose are bound together for life; you’re a package deal Dean. Neither of you are leaving each other and deep down you know that. What you need to know now is that accepting your classification is okay – I will help you Dean. I want to help you better understand your classification and be there for you until you no longer need me.”

“What are you saying Cas?”

“I’m saying accept your classification and let me take care of you when you need it. I want to take care of you Dean. I desire to help you and Samuel. Accepting your classification is the best decision and I’ll be there for you and all your tendencies. We will figure it out together. Please Dean, let me help.”

One word escaped Dean’s lips before he could stop himself: _okay_. He was tired of hiding from himself.

Cas broke out into a grin slightly surprised at Dean’s response; he thought he was going to have to push a lot harder to convince Dean to accept.

“Say it out loud Dean,” Cas commanded. Once a person said their true classification out loud, it was set it in stone. If the classification was accepted and true when said, a person would be cascade in warmth and their happiest memory, confirming the classification and triggering everything.

“I’m a Standard Dominant,” Dean said. He felt nothing. “And – and I’m a Submissive with Little tendencies.” Dean staggered backwards, warmth overpowering him. It felt, it felt indescribable.

Dean Winchester was classified.

Sam was next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated and craved.
> 
> I think I'm going to start a few short stories for either The Umbrella Academy or The Magicians with lots of hurt/comfort themes, comment below if you'd be interested in reading that.
> 
> And thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.


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